we're both unsettled nighttime creatures (shadow creatures)
by katanafleet
Summary: Together—they fight the sun, the fire, the light of a coming dawn. They know nothing apart, not any more. But for now—they are together. She is just a girl with the weight of the world on her back, and he is just a boy with the memories of the world on his shoulders. But for this last night—they will not be alone.


_Do not go gentle into that good night,  
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;  
Rage, rage against the dying of the light._

 _Though wise men at their end know dark is right,  
Because their words had forked no lightning they  
Do not go gentle into that good night._

* * *

Slowly, slowly, she walks down the stairs. Soundlessly, and yet he hears her. He knows it is her before she can see him. He sets down the amulet that makes him a champion and her a murderer, the jewel that becomes his salvation and his destruction. He stands, and he looks at her, and she gazes back.

If this is to be the last night of their lives, they will fight the coming of the sunrise together.

She walks toward him, but when his face twists just a little and she can feel a tear roll down her cheek, she breaks into a run, throws herself into his arms. He catches her, because that's all he's ever done, for so many years, and death can't stop—won't stop—that. Not even the greatest of evils can stop them. She takes his face into her hands and kisses him, hard.

He holds onto her like she's the last beam before the sunset, the last sip of water in a desert. Her kiss is like coming home after a long journey, like a single cloud on the horizon of a dry land. She feels his tears and her tears mingle on her face, on her lips, as she desperately pulls him closer until there is no space between them.

They have been apart so long, and they learn each other again, what makes the other burn, what makes them sparkle. He tugs gently at her hair, and she thumbs his cheekbones, and he runs kisses down her neck, and she breathes him in so deeply. They breathe together, and they remember together, and they live together, and they stand at the end of the world together.

It's like they have never been away with their own demons. They have forgotten that the other is their equal, their demon, their angel, their last and only hope.

Tonight—tonight—they let the demons of death and pain go. They forget what's coming, what they will have to do in the morning. She whispers his name into his collarbone when they collapse onto the too-small bed, and his tears roll down his chin. She tugs his shirt off unabashedly, and he slowly pulls hers away with a faint smirk, but they stop there.

Tonight is too precious.

She runs her hands down his chest, the scars of his weeks of captivity still tender. He brushes his hands down her side, the bruises of the enemies still shining. But they are more. They are more than the reminders of their failures, more than the lucky hits of their enemies. When they are together—they are more, they are fighters, they never fail.

They pull away from the kisses, and he sighs. She curls into his arms, shaking just a little, her face hidden in his neck. He's never felt her tremble, not ever, and it scares him. He pulls her closer, whispering comforts into her ear, dragging his hand slowly down her spine. This is the first time she's let herself be terrified of the morning, and neither of them know what to do with her fear.

Finally she lifts her tear-streaked face and kisses him again, this time slow and tender and everything that should be a shout into the void of her love, love, love. Love for this man. They've hurt each other so many times, over and over, different ways but all the same, but in the end—she loves him.

And he loves her. He's known for so very long, done so much to win her, sacrificed so much, paid the highest of prices to try to gain her body and her trust—her heart. And now she is in his arms, her face so close to his, and to him it's heaven. He flips them over carefully, his body protecting hers from the morning, because that's all he's wanted to do for so long. Protect her. Guard her.

Save her.

In this moment they save each other. It is the darkest moments before dawn, and all they can see is the outlines of their faces and all they can feel is the warm comfort and care surrounding them. She wraps her arms around him, and he pulls her into him, until they cannot feel the space that separates them, until they're one body.

He loves her, he loves her, he loves her, he whispers. Her tears muffle her words, but she is his, she is his as he is hers, she whispers. He's never been as sure about anything as he is her. She's never had someone as completely as she has him.

He knows that tomorrow will be his last dawn as clearly as he knows that she will see his last moments. She knows she will survive as clearly as she knows that she will spend the rest of her life in pain because of tomorrow.

They lie on the bed together, their legs and arms tangled together, their foreheads touching. He breathes her in, to make sure he will never, ever forget her—he never could. She stares at his face, too close and out of focus, but she can see the blue of his eyes clearly, and she knows she will remember this color forever—she could never forget.

In this last night, they remember and they vow to never forget. He has only a few hours left to live, and she has forever without him. He will see her on his last day, in his last moments of sight, and she will see him every night, in the dreams of a life they could have had. In this last night, they know this, and they cry together, and they hold each other and pretend that it is not the last night she will be in his arms, the last night he will bury his face in her hair.

Together—they fight the sun, the fire, the light of a coming dawn. They know nothing apart, not any more. But for now—they are together. She is just a girl with the weight of the world on her back, and he is just a boy with the memories of the world on his shoulders. But for this last night—they will not be alone.

* * *

 _Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright  
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,  
Rage, rage against the dying of the light._

 _Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,  
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,  
Do not go gentle into that good night._

 _Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight  
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,  
Rage, rage against the dying of the light._


End file.
